Life tends to get in the way of my vision for what comes next. Spring 2011, I can remember sensing something's coming, just down the road, around the bend. I couldn't see it. Didn't know what it was. I just knew it was coming. Being positive, by nature, I, of course, thought that something would be good. It would capture my attention and wing me on to my next adventure. 


Mom had settled into my home, for the most part. I basically put-on-hold teaching, as my stress level could only "handle" having Mom in the home. We had good days and some not so good days, and some days, just not worth mentioning at all. I'd usually call one of my sisters or text my brothers and say, you'll never guess what Mom came up with this morning. But, all in all, life in retrospect, seemed to be running fairly smooth, as smooth as life with someone that has Alzheimer's can.


Then August came around and my world turned upside down. That something DID capture my attention. 


Within the course of a month, I was not only diagnosed with ovarian cancer, but also with pancreatic cancer. Two separate, unrelated cancers. My ovarian (notice how I've owned it...its mine, not someone else's...what does that say about me, I wonder??) cancer seemed to be well behaved. It was borderline cancer, although as my medical oncologist (acquired when I had my second diagnosis) said, cancer is cancer. My GYN oncologist, after removing all my female organs and my appendix, said it would only require a careful scrutiny. No need for chemo or radiation. YAY!! I was elated and ready to get on with my life again. 

I had one concern though. Before surgery, I began to notice a creeping yellowness to my skin and eyes and some other symptoms. By the time my surgeon was ready to release me and remove my staples three weeks post-op, I had dragon eyes, you know those stories where the dragon has piercing, devilishly yellow eyes! My GYN finally looked up (yes, I meant it) and said, "You're yellow!" A blood test confirmed a dangerously elevated bilirubin and elevated liver enzymes. He told me, "get to the hospital, NOW! These are liver failure levels." 


A scan showed a blockage in my pancreas, and after biopsies etc, confirmed another nightmare, adeno pancreatic cancer. A small mass blocked my bile duct, causing bile to spew into my system. The jaundice alerted the doctors of the mass, otherwise, it could have grown undetected until too late for them to operate. All concerned called it fortuitous. My medical oncologist explained how they stage cancers, what they look for in pancreatic cancer in order to work toward a cure. It looked like they found mine before it became incurable.


I couldn't read. I couldn't even pray. I remember sitting up on the edge of my bed in the hospital after getting all this information, alone, softly singing to myself the song I wrote about in another blog, Somebody's Praying: "mighty hands are guiding me to protect me from what I can't see, O Lord, I believe....."  I was in shock, overwhelmed, yet being held by an invisible gracious Spirit of love (God is love). I don't know what I would do without my family, my children, my friends, and my priests. All have gathered around and have been supporting me, and I'm so grateful for their love. 


In mid-October, another surgeon performed a Whipple. He removed a portion of my pancreas, a portion of my duodenum, a portion of a bile duct, my gall bladder, and re-arranged my innards (technically a duodenalpancreadectomy, whipple resection). I wonder what's left?? All professionals concerned informed me, I recovered quickly from both, particularly the Whipple surgery. I have nothing to compare it to, so I'll take their word. 


All I know is, I went from having one alternative medicine doctor to having not one, but four oncologists. From only taking supplements (except for my thyroid medicine) to needing chemo therapy and radiation, in  the course of just a few months time. This cancer was not as well behaved. It is Stage III, with close borders. My oncologists still think, "we can cure this." I'm grateful for their attention and compassion. 

I know that no one leaves this world alive, but would like a bit longer to work on my bucket list, see my grand-children grow up, and accompany my children to mid-life, at least. According to my surgeon, if I make it two years, that will be great! Five years, they'll talk cure. I like what a friend said the other day, "When you wake up the next day after diagnosis, you're a cancer survivor." I'm not ready to say good-bye, not yet. Life and death are not in my hands, though. Control over our circumstances is an illusion. We just don't know what lies around the bend. 


My brothers and sisters have come together and decided I need "to laser focus" on my own health and are in the process of moving Mom to assisted living. She is not happy about it. No one is.



I've been re-watching The Lord of the Rings and identified with Frodo. "I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." 
Gandalf assures him, "So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."


So, as I go through this transition time, time between now and whenever my Lord calls me home, as I struggle with side effects of chemo and radiation, I'm living now, but also planning for the time I have left (a good place to be), and hopefully, finishing the bucket list.